


The Children of Light and Shadow

by Monkeyman



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Before The Storm (WoW), Before the Storm spoilers, I'll sail this ship alone if I have to, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 06:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14928909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monkeyman/pseuds/Monkeyman
Summary: Anduin meets the OTHER prophetic child everyone keeps talking about.





	The Children of Light and Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the new Before the Storm novel, risen from the ashes of my hopes for Wranduin. Came from a one off line that Turalyon said about Anduin meeting Arator, and their similar lives struck me. Plus, I just really wanted to write about a half elf.

It really wasn't a good day for meeting people. 

That thought ran through Anduin's head quite a lot, but today of all days, those words rang truest. It had been a little over two weeks since the horrific events that took place at Stromgarde, and he had only recently returned to Stormwind. He was luckily to have a leader like Greymane to take care of matters while he dealt with the aftermath, but that didn't make it any easier. He had returned to Stromgarde to bury the bodies of those lost on the day of that ceasefire. 

'Ceasefire'. He didn't like that word much anymore. Perhaps he had been wrong to label his plan that, for although it was many things, it was not a halt of violence. Anduin slowly sat up from his bed, gathering his thoughts, his mind still on those he had buried not a week ago in the fields of Arathi. He thought of Parqual, and hugging his daughter tight as the soldiers lowered her father's body into the ground, and watching her place her childhood doll atop his grave. Of Tomas, and how Osric didn't have the heart to show, simply requesting they place a rose on his grave. Of the Felstone brothers, and how everyone kept a healthy distance from Ol' Emma, not out of fear, but out of respect as she silently processed the deaths of her sons for the second time in her long life. Of Elsie, and how he personally volunteered to carve the epitaph on her gravestone, and placed her ring atop the fresh dirt. 

Of Wyll. In all this, Wyll was still on his mind. His death was barely further away than those of the Desolate Council, and yet it felt like a lifetime ago. He couldn't feel much sorrow anymore. Wyll was happy, reunited with his beloved wife in the afterlife. Or so he hoped. In all this, he still wasn't sure what awaited after death. What those like Arthas robbed all those he raised of. What he hoped his father had achieved. And that brought him back to the bad day he felt he was going to have. 

His schedule wasn't particularly heavy. Quite light, in fact. The stupor the kingdom was in after Arathi was already beginning to fade, and he didn't expect any visitors related to that. But who he was expecting was Turalyon. Atop the walls of Stromgarde, they had discussed meeting to trade stories of their experiences with the Light. The day after had certainly muddled that, but there was plenty he wished to discuss. Not just of the man's ancient past, but of the events he had only recently seen in the Netherlight Temple. He didn't expect the High Exarch to know about what happened, and so he had reserved much of his day to speak with him in the privacy of the Cathedral of Light. 

Anduin then realized that he was waiting for nobody. His instincts told him to wait at his bed for Wyll to bring in his outfit for the day, but nobody was coming. He hadn't bothered hiring a new royal attendant - If Wyll was any indication, no attendant would ever do better than his beloved friend. And so he hoisted himself up from his bed, and let out a loud, pained groan. His bones were aching. 

This wasn't going to be a good day. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

The trek down his stairs weren't as bad as he expected. As usual, the pain in his bones were a sign of his emotions more than a lasting effect, but he still took his time down to the table to meet with Genn. His feet clapped heavily through the halls, louder than he expected. He was a king now, but that didn't mean his growth stopped. His days of sneaking through the halls of Stormwind Keep were long last, and he had a presence to rival his father as his feet slapped through the hallways. That, or he simply wasn't picking his feet up enough. 

After a few moments, he rounded the corner into the dining hall, mindlessly walking down the table to where he normally sat, and slumping into the chair. Not long later, a servant brought his breakfast. A generous pile of bacon, along with four eggs, and a splattering of jams on toast. He stared at it for a few moments, plenty hungry, but wanting to talk first. "Genn, you had troubles with losses after your parents died, yes?" 

The old wolf's voice echoed through the stone room. "I - Yes, Anduin, but -" 

In a rare occurrence for him, he cut the man off. "I didn't expect to feel loss like I did when my father died for other people. But after Arathi, after Calia. I can't help but feel lost." 

"Anduin..." 

The young king continued. "How am I supposed to lead when my compassion blinds me to tactics? If the death of a woman I met a month ago can affect me like this, what will happen when the real war begins?" 

"Anduin. We have guests." 

He looked up. Along with Genn, who had sat himself three seats down from his own, there were three new faces. Turalyon, who, while early, wasn't unexpected, the Lady Alleria, who, unlike the others at the table, had a fully stocked plate in front of her. And before he got to the third face, he looked to Genn, who was staring at Anduin with a beleaguered face. He looked down to himself and realized another thing he had forgotten. He was in his pajamas. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

Anduin wasn't ashamed of his body. He had a few scars here and there from his wounds sustained by Garrosh, and was a bit behind on his fitness, but he still blushed a bit as he realized that he was sitting before three leaders of the Alliance in a pair of baggy, striped blue pants and a loose shoulder strapped shirt. He doubt any of them minded, but it was a bit embarrassing nonetheless. He glanced around, with Genn waving over one of the attendants and whispering for her to bring a proper shirt for him to wear, the woman nodding and walking off towards his room. The pair of opposite lovers were smiling a bit, not all that bothered by his mistake, Turalyon returning to his food, beginning to discuss idle plans with the high elf beside him. But the third newcomer that he hadn't quite looked at startled him a bit. 

Not in a bad way. The man who he could only presume was Arator was chuckling a bit at him, not out of malice, but in a friendly tone. He was different than what Anduin had imagined. Wider than he imagined. For a half elf, he was certainly a bulky man. But Anduin's gaze was more fixated on Arator's face. Aside from the wide, sharp jawline of his father, he looked surprisingly elven. He wore a rather smoothly flowing ponytail, his hair blonder and brighter than either of his parents, each of them darkened by age and experience. Through the bright hair poked the signature long ears of any elf, though his were more subtle, only barely reaching the top of his head. His eyes weren't quite as brightly glowing as those of many other high elves, but the whites of his eyes held a faint glow, not quite bright enough to make out. But they were startlingly green, just like his mothers. And startlingly sharp as they peered into his own, Anduin shifting his attention to the food before him. 

"I assuming you are fine with me taking care of your business for the day, Anduin?" He gave a quick nod, beginning to come back to his senses. "Good, Turalyon was gracious enough to arrive early, and I wouldn't want him to wait around while a King does his work." The paladin gave a small chuckle, placing a heavy hand onto the table. 

"I respect the work of a King, Genn, I'm only here because Alleria has business to discuss with your esteemed spymaster." He gave a small, less than ideal look to Alleria, before focusing back on Genn and his own son. "But thank you for stepping up. I may be patient, but Arator is a bit less so." The half elf gave a small smile, a piece of bacon halfway through his teeth. Their meal continued on as most of his did with Genn. Mostly eating, with the occasional chatter about the upcoming day, and issues in the world. Though they all avoided speaking about Arathi, Anduin knew it was on everyone's mind. Not long after being asked, the servant returned with a tight fitting tunic for Anduin to wear, quickly slipping it on to be a bit less revealing at the table. It wasn't a spectacular breakfast, but it was nice for Anduin to know that despite all the pain and tragedy happening around him, there was still time for enjoyable meals. 

Maybe this day wasn't going to be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to start off with a short chapter, just to get into the rhythm of posting on AO3. I hope I wrote well, and stayed in character. Enjoy, and expect the next chapter some time between now and eventually.


End file.
